


the cardinal

by dlm



Series: HITMAN AU [1]
Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8487457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dlm/pseuds/dlm
Summary: Static crackles from the other end of the line."Hello," A raspy voice says. Seunghyun takes a shaky breath, and replies. "What do you want.""You owe me a favour," the man says, with a light laugh. "Remember?"(prequel.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> many, many thanks to the gracious sandra who betaed this for me. pls hit her up on [twitter](http://twitter.com/tinycpr) and check out her fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishiteita/pseuds/aishiteita)!!!

**zero** :

 

Static crackles from the other end of the line.  
  
"Hello," A raspy voice says.  
  
Seunghyun takes a shaky breath, and replies. "What do you want."  
  
"You owe me a favour," the man says, with a light laugh. "Remember?"  
****

**one** :

 

Choi Seunghyun holds his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and sucks in before breathing out; heady wisps of smoke escaping from his lips.  
  
He's late, but it doesn't matter.  
  
It's two in the morning and he feels the cool night air seep through his suit--not like it matters, seeing as he's making his way into the building soon. The museum is large and imposing at any given time in the day, but it's especially so now, what with the pale moonlight reflecting off its marble arches.

He takes one final drag of his cigarette before letting it fall to the ground and lighting it out by crushing it with the heel of his shoe.

As he walks up the stairway by the museum's entrance, he notices that the guard on night duty is missing from his post. Which means he's either busy wandering around or he's just simply absent from work. Seunghyun hopes for the latter, but he can't remember a time where he'd actually gotten what he'd wished for, especially during a heist, so instead he just takes a left turn so that he's no longer visible from the main road.  
  
From here, he can see an opening into the museum through its skylight on the rooftops. He's not bothering with the main door, seeing as it's probably locked up by now--and from past experience, that had indeed been the case, so he grumbles to himself and looks for grooves on the walls to allow him to climb his way to the top.  
  
He's fortunate enough to have somehow snagged himself equipment that allow him to do so. (He's practically Ezio Auditore, he thinks.) The gloves and footwear that he's wearing enable him to attach himself to the surface of the wall without slipping, and the way up is relatively easy, although he does snag the hem of his trousers on a stray branch once or twice.  
  
Once he's on the roof, he taps on the skylight to check whether it's breakable. The dull _thunk_ tells him that it's not, so he rummages in his backpack and finds his power drill. It saws through the glass loudly and the glass crashes down onto the floor into a million pieces, but whatever, he'll deal. He's a criminal, not some sort of Hollywood spy.  
  
This is how he decides to make the terrible decision of jumping down the skylight and into the museum. His shoes are thankfully shock-absorbent, and he manages to pull off a perfect landing roll so that the fall hurts a little less. (Overall, he has to deal with a searing pain through his right calf, which is perhaps less than ideal during the midst of a heist.)  
  
Pathetically limping through the hallways of the museum, he scans his eyes through the various exhibitions and displays held to look for his target: a small painting of a red bird.  
  
It's not famous by any means; it belongs to a relatively unknown contemporary artist and the painting is being held in the museum's temporary gallery. The gallery finishes tomorrow, which is why Seunghyun's here tonight.  
  
He rolls up a sleeve to check the time: he has less than an hour to get the job done, so he walks faster, and follows the signs to the exhibit where the painting of the red bird (amongst others) is being displayed.  
  
The contents of his bag clack loudly against each other as he quickens his pace. He wonders to himself whether he'd picked his suppressed pistol or if he'd chosen his glock sans silencer by accident instead.  
  
He'll figure that out later.  
  
For now, he makes an exit to the right, and finds himself standing in front of a room with a bright yellow door.  
  
"U," he reads out from the label stuck on the door. "Odd," he mutters, and puts a gloved hand around the doorknob before turning it.  
  
To his surprise, it opens--someone had clearly forgotten to do their job for the night. Or maybe the work inside was simply not important enough to need intense security.  
  
Probably a mixture of both, he thinks to himself as he enters the room, taking in the way the art's arranged rather haphazardly around the room. He pulls out his phone and opens an app to detect whether there are any active security cameras within the vicinity. There aren't, and he pockets his phone with a little sigh of relief.  
  
So far so good, he thinks.  
  
A large collage takes up a side of the wall, while series of abstract paintings are strung from the ceiling. A sculpture of a deformed mother nursing what seems to be a large insect stares ominously at him. He averts his eyes and scans around the room, hoping to spot his object of interest.  
  
He's circled the room four times, frustrated, when he finally spots it out of the corner of his eye. It's tinier than he'd anticipated--it’s about the size of his palm, maybe even less so, and he holds his hand up to the painting just to confirm its miniscule size. The red bird in question is even tinier; only taking up a quarter of the painting’s canvas. Seunghyun peers at it, and notes how the bright red of the bird juxtaposes against the washed out yellows of the painting’s background.

A quick glance around the room affirms the fact that he’s alone, and he removes the painting from the wall with ease. Since the painting is small in size, even with its decorative golden frame, Seunghyun doesn’t have to bother with removing it from its frame and rolling it up in a tube. Instead, he’s free to merely stick the painting into his bag and just walk out, by the looks of things.

He replaces the painting with a counterfeit job--admittedly larger overall than the original--and steps back to admire his work for a second or two.

Well. Technically not _his work_ , but whatever, he’ll take his time around artwork of any kind.

As he turns around, however, he’s greeted by a tiny man with a deep voice. A badge pinned to his lapel reads SECURITY in bright green lettering. “Ahem,” he says.

Fuck, Seunghyun thinks. “Good evening, sir,” he says instead.

“The museum is closed.”

“Yes,” Seunghyun says agreeably.

“Guests aren’t allowed,” the guard says evenly, and pauses to rub his moustache. “Thieves aren’t allowed either.” He beams at Seunghyun, as if he’d just recited a particularly witty joke.

“I’m a prospective buyer,” Seunghyun replies smoothly, casting a hand over the painting. “I’ve always been fond of art.”

“Have you really,” the guard says, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

Seunghyun nods. “I’ve been in contact with the artist myself--Park Jae Wook.”

The security guard looks at him appraisingly, and says, “ah, yeah,” before his face transforms into a face of confusion. “Wait, Park Jae Wook didn’t paint that--he created that weird motherly statue.” He looks at Seunghyun and says, “You’ve broken in and you’re not a buyer,” voice rising with a mixture of suspicion and anger. “You’re a thief.”

“Fuck,” Seunghyun says, before pulling out a tranquiliser gun from his pockets and shooting the guard right between the eyes. The guard slumps to the floor and his tongue sticks out of his mouth; as if he’s lost all muscular function. Which, to be fair, he probably has.

“Sorry,” Seunghyun waves at the guard’s now-unconscious body, and walks out of the room, whistling.

 

 

**one point five:**

 

He takes a few hours off at his apartment before he has to get out for round two.

 

 

 **two** :

 

Seunghyun had in fact packed the wrong gun--he’d brought his glock that didn’t have a silencer, so he’s swapped it out for his trusty compressed gun. He’s also taken out his power drill, and in its place in his backpack is a large coil of rope. Just in case. A pair of surgical gloves are also packed away.

In an area of the city that’s looking worse for wear, he finds his next target waiting in an nondescript apartment building; its once white walls covered in dust and grime.

When he enters the apartment elevator lift, he removes his suit jacket and drapes it over his shoulder. The old lady with a shopping cart peers at him through her glasses as he hits the button for the fifteenth floor.

“I’ve never seen you around here,” she says to him, still staring.

He smiles at her. “I’m visiting a long-lost friend.”

She hums, as though she'd accepted his answer, but right as she leaves the lift once it stops on her floor, she turns to him and says, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Before Seunghyun registers what she’d said, the lift doors close and she’s out of sight as the lift goes upwards. “Thanks?” He says to the walls instead.

Once the bell dings, indicating his floor, he adjusts the straps of his bag, and walks out. The heels of his shoes clack softly against the concrete floor. There are three units on the fifteenth floor--the door to his left has some clothes left out to dry in the sun. The door in the middle has a large shoe rack with a colourful range of shoes, probably belonging to a family.

He knocks on the third door; the door to his right.

The sound of padded feet is heard through the closed door as a person walks closer to unlock it. A tired man opens the door, rubs his eyes and says, “What the fuck,” and then, “oh shit, you’re here.”

“I’m guessing you knew I was coming, then.”

“Something like that,” the man says, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up. He has paint all over his shirt and Seunghyun notices that his fingers are flecked with paint in a way that seem as though they’re a permanent fixture of his skin.

“Am I supposed to tell you my name?”

“It’s better if you don’t,” Seunghyun says, quietly, as the man ushers him into his home.

It’s messy, but it looks like it was hurriedly cleaned up, as if he was expecting guests at the last minute and he had wanted to hide the mess as quickly as possible. There are bright red socks peeking out from under the couch and the wooden table is scarred with mug marks and cigarette stubs.

“It’s a nice place,” Seunghyun says, in lieu of anything. It’s not that much of a lie, anyway, seeing as the man’s walls are adorned with art.

The man snorts and leads the both of them to the couch; removing a basket of laundry--or dirty clothes?--in the process. “Do you have the painting?”

Seunghyun produces the painting of the red bird from his backpack and hands it over to the man. He takes it from Seunghyun and turns it over in his hands with a wry smile and returns it.

“Don’t you want it back?”

The man shakes his head. “Mail it to my mother at a later date.”

Seunghyun nods his agreement and packs the painting away. He clasps his fingers together. “So,” he says, voice coming out rough, and he clears his throat. “So how should we proceed?”

The man doesn’t make eye contact with Seunghyun. He pulls at a loose thread from his jumper instead and lets out a shaky breath. “It comes to this.”

“You’ve waited for far too long.”

“I know.”

“If it doesn’t happen today--”

“I _know_ ,” the man says, urgently this time, and he lets out a choked laugh. “But god, I didn’t want it to happen like this.”

“I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want to do,” Seunghyun says.

“I don’t have a choice,” the man says, and smiles; it’s all broken and wrong and Seunghyun has to look away. “Neither do you, in fact. You were forced into doing this yourself.”

Seunghyun feels his pulse quicken. “What?”

“Were you asked to do a favour?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s finished,” the man says, and he slumps bonelessly onto the couch. “Just kill me already.”

“No takebacks,” Seunghyun says, the urge to make the situation lighter getting to him, and the man shoots him a half-hearted grin in return.

“None whatsoever.”

Seunghyun takes his gun out, presses the cool metal against the man’s temple, and pulls the trigger.

 

**end:**

 

_PROMISING YOUNG ARTIST FOUND DEAD IN APARTMENT_

 

A young artist was found dead in his apartment after apparently having struggled with an intruder in his home.

Hae Young Hee was only 26. He was an accomplished artist, having his work, _The Cardinal_ , exhibited in a local museum. The aforementioned painting is reported to be missing from the exhibition and is instead replaced by a counterfeit. Police are currently investigating its whereabouts, as well as the circumstances behind Young Hee’s sudden death.

According to his autopsy, he had died immediately upon receiving blunt force trauma. Reports of the area suggest that crime in the neighbourhood where the artist had lived in were common.

Young Hee leaves behind his widowed mother and a younger brother currently enrolled in university. Both of them declined to comment.

“It’s such a shame to have such talent robbed from us so quickly,” international artist Mark Smith said. “We were scheduled for an overseas appearance in my hometown within the following months.”

 _The Cardinal_ is now increasing in value as it remains missing from authorities.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this is a prequel to a ~proper heist fic in the works. said fic involves gtop and general murdery shenanigans. 
> 
> this one just has top in it but I hope u enjoyed it anyway!!!
> 
> twit: [@plantgd](http://twitter.com/plantgd) pls hmu so we can Yell About Bigbang or something.


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